NOTICES  OF  INDIAN  CONVERTS. 

by  vV,  M. 

The  nature  arid  excellence  of  the  objebt,  which  the 
friends  of  foreign  missions  aim  to  accomplish,  cannot 
probably  be  shown  more  plainly,  than  by  an  exhibition 
of  the  character  of  those  individuals  on  whom  the  Gos- 
pel has  exerted  its  transforming  power.  The  design  of 
this  Paper  is  to  present  to  the  patrons  of  missions  such 
an  exhibition  of  what  has  been  effected,  by  their  contri- 
butions and  prayers,  in  the  case  of  a few  Indian  Con- 
verts. 

Such  cases  should  be  noticed,  because  they  illustrate 
the  manner  in  which  the  grace  of  God  searches  out  the 
objects  of  his  saving  mercy,  finding  them  ignorant  and 
far  removed  from  all  Christian  watchfulness  and  in- 
struction, directing  their  way  amidst  the  most  inauspicious 
circumstances,  and  at  last  bringing  them  under  the  sound 
of  the  Gospel,  and  renewing  their  hearts. 

It  is  interesting  to  see  how  the  truths  of  the  Gospel, 
applied  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  operate,  when  first  present- 
ed to  minds  which  have  grown  to  some  maturity  in  igno- 
rance of  them;  and  to  observe  the  analogy  between  the 
feelings  of  those  under  the  influences  of  the  Spirit, 
among  the  heathen,  and  of  those  who  are  operated  upon 
by  the  same  Spirit,  in  the  congregations  of  a Christian 
land.  There  is  manifested  the  same  view  of  the  human 
character,  of  the  need  of  divine  aid,  of  the  guilt  of  sin, 
and  of  the  appropriateness  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Gos- 
pel; connected  with  the  same  change  of  external  char- 
acter, corresponding  with  the  new  light  which  has  dawn- 
ed on  the  mind. 

1 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman. 


Such  narratives  also  bring  before  the  mind  in  a strik- 
ing manner  the  contrast  between  those  who  are  without 
the  Gospel,  and  those  who  enjoy  its  light  and  embrace 
it.  The  effects  of  the  change  on  individuals  and  neigh- 
borhoods, for  this  life  and  the  future,  cannot  be  estimat- 
ed. The  missionary  and  his  patrons  see  in  these  con- 
verts living  proofs,  that  their  work  is  feasible,  and  that 
God  approves  of  their  labors  and  is  co-operating  with 
them.  They  also  see  the  greatness  of  their  work,  which 
is,  to  effect  a similar  change  in  the  whole  heathen  popu- 
lation of  the  globe. 

[These  three  narratives  were  furnished  by  the  Rev.  W.  M.  Ferry,  mis- 
sionary at  Mackinaw,  in  compliance  with  a request  that  he  would  give  an  ac- 
count of  some  interesting  cases  of  conversion  which  had  recently  happened 
at  that  station;  and  may  be  relied  upon  as  being  authentic.  The  various  indi- 
viduals mentioned  are  members  of  the  mission  family.] 

ELIZA,  AN  INDIAN  WOMAN. 

Her  Life  before  Conversion. 

The  Indian  name  of  Eliza  was  O-dah-be-tuh-ghe-zhe-go- 
quai,  signifying  in  English  the  Mid-way-sky-woman,  or  the 
place  of  the  sun  at  noon.  She  was  born  near  the  Aunee, 
about  300  miles  up  the  south  shore  of  Lake  Superior;  and 
is  by  blood  of  the  O-jib-e-way  tribe.  She  „ does  not  know 
her  age,  but  is  probably  not  far  from  45  years  old. 

Being  of  influential  connections,  (her  uncle  a principal 
chief,)  she  was  selected  to  become  an  interpreter  of  dreams. 
This  took  place  when  she  was  probably  about  16  or  17 
years  old.  Her  merits  for  this  rank  or  honor  must,  accord- 
ing to  their  superstition,  be  decided  by  her  living  ten  days 
in  a separate  lodge,  without  any  other  nourishment  than  a 
little  water  each  night.  She  faithfully  observed  the  pre- 
scribed abstinence,  although  it  nearly  cost  her  her  life. 
Her  bodily  strength  was  almost  exhausted;  and  on  being 
brought  out  of  the  lodge,  probably  from  being  too  plentifully 
fed,  she  fell  sick,  and  did  not  recover  for  several  moons. 
And  yet,  of  her  own  accord,  soon  after  she  got  well  she 
fasted  nine  days  more.  From  this  time  she  was  considered 
an  extraordinary  being.  The  clan  would  not  permit  her 
to  work,  but  provided  for  her  a wigwam  of  distinction,  and 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman.  3 

constantly  supplied  her  with  the  best  of  their  every  thing, 
both  food  and  clothing. 

She  was  also  furnished  with  a large  otter  skin , or  medi- 
cine sack , stored  with  every  necessary  article,  either  for 
magical  cure  of  the  sick,  or  for  interpreting  dreams.  This 
sack,  which  she  carefully  preserved,  was  her  badge  of  hon- 
or; and  in  all  their  medicine  dances  she  was  greatest  among 
the  great.  One  proof  of  which  was  taking  the  lead  in 
drinking  whiskey.  In  this  way  she  became  so  excessively 
intemperate,  that  in  one  of  these  scenes  she  lost  her  sack. 
This  was  during  the  last  war,  at  the  commencement  of 
which  she  came  from  Lake  Superior,  and  resided  on  the 
main  land  west  of  Mackinaw.  Another  sack  was  provided 
her;  but  this  she  kept  only  about  two  years.  Near  this 
time  she  lost  one  of  her  children,  which,  together  with  the 
loss  of  her  second  sack,  and  tjie  neglect  of  the  Indians,  so 
dispirited  her,  that  she  abandoned  herself  to  every  vice. 
About  nine  years  ago  she  lost  another  child,  the  third  of 
four.  Then  for  a while  she  listened  to  advice  and  stopped 
drinking.  But  it  was  not  long  before  she  was  allured 
away  into  the  woods  by  an  Indian  man  and  woman,  where 
whiskey  had  been  previously  carried,  and  there  those  two 
persuaded  her  to  drink  with  them.  In  this  drunken  frolic, 
through  jealousy  as  she  supposes,  but  without  any  just  prov- 
ocation, the  other  woman  fell  upon  her  and  cut  off  her  nose. 
This  was  the  greatest  disgrace,  in  her  estimation,  that  she 
could  possibly  suffer.  And  for  a long  time  her  friends  had 
to  watch  her  to  keep  her  from  destroying  her  life.  Once 
she  tried  to  hang  herself.  At  another  time,  returning  from 
Mackinaw  where  she  with  other  Indians  had  been  for 
whiskey,  she  threw  herself  into  the  lake,  but  the  Indian  in 
the  stern  caught  her  by  the  hair  and  drew  her  again  into 
the  canoe.  After  this  she  began  to  think  that  the  unknown 
Indian,  who,  as  she  supposed,  had  the  care  of  her  life, 
was  unwilling  that  she  should  kill  herself,  and  she  gave  up 
all  further  attempts  to  effect  it.  Having  but  one  child  left, 
she  now  staid  sometimes  on  the  island  of  Mackinaw,  and 
sometimes  on  the  main  land,  with  no  fixed  object  but  to  get 
whiskey  by  every  possible  means. 

The  first  knowledge  I had  of  her  was  in  the  fall  of  1823. 
Soon  after  our  school  was  opened  to  receive  children,  I one 


4 


Eliza , an  bidian  Woman. 


day  met  her  boy,  and  on  ascertaining  who  he  was,  I went 
with  an  interpreter  to  the  lodge  of  the  mother.  A wretch- 
edly destitute  and  miserable  scene  we  witnessed.  At  that 
time  no  persuasion  could  induce  her  to  let  me  have  her  son. 
But  going  the  second  time,  and  the  boy  himself  being  wil- 
ling, she  at  length  reluctantly  gave  her  consent.  How- 
ever, in  a few  days  he  ran  away,  and  though  I obtained  him 
again,  yet  through  the  winter  the  mother  watched  for  op- 
portunities to  get  him.  The  following  spring,  more  out  of 
pity  than  for  our  convenience,  I employed  her,  first  in  the 
kitchen,  and  afterward  at  the  sugar  camp  on  Bois  Blanc, 
a neighboring  island,  on  condition  that  she  would  drink 
no  whiskey  and  conduct  herself  properly.  By  much 
counsel  and  care,  she  did  so  much  better  than  my  fears, 
that  I finally  told  her,  that,  provided  she  would  be  steady 
and  do  such  work  as  she  was  able,  she  might  have  a home 
with  us.  From  that  time  I believe,  she  never  had  but 
three  or  four  seasons  of  intoxication. 

First  Religious  Impressions. 

It  is  now  about  three  years  since  her  serious  attention 
to  religion  commenced,  the  amount  of  which  for  some  length 
of  time  was  very  fluctuating.  While  under  the  sound  of 
instruction  she  would  be  more  or  less  affected,  sometimes  to 
tears.  For  several  years,  during  the  hours  of  Sabbath 
school,  we  have  had  a separate  school  for  Indian  women 
and  others,  mostly  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  F.,  for  the  purpose 
of  reading  and  explaining  the  Scriptures,  tracts,  &.c.  It 
was  at  these  meetings  that  Eliza  was  often  affected;  though 
afterwards,  as  she  says,  she  would  throw  the  subject  off, 
and  become  in  a measure  indifferent.  Again,  perhaps,  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  there  could  be  no  mercy  for  such 
a creature  as  she  was,  and  the  thought  of  her  religious 
state  making  her  unhappy,  she  would  avoid  being  present 
at  these  meetings.  Under  this  Same  impression,  she  could 
not  think  it  right  for  her  to  come  with  us  to  family  worship, 
or  to  the  evening  meetings  of  the  females.  Yet,  she  says, 
she  often  felt  so  strong  a desire  to  hear  the  sound  of  prayer 
and  singing,  that  she  has  gone  to  the  door  of  the  room,  and 
remained  there  as  long  as  she  thought  she  could,  without 


5 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman. 

being-  discovered — sometimes  till  nearly  frozen.  Most  of 
that  winter  passed  with  such  uneasiness  of  mind,  that, 
when  not  daring  to  look  to  God  herself  for  mercy,  because 
she  was  such  a sinner,  she  would  feel  it  a kind  of  relief  to 
overhear  the  worship  of  others;  as  if  God  might  possibly 
hear  their  prayers,  though  she  was  unworthy  to  be  pres- 
ent. 

During  the  spring,  while  at  the  sugar  camp,  she  says 
she  was  greatly  distressed  during  the  whole  time.  When 
gathering  sap,  she  often  had  feelings  like  these — ‘Here  I 
am  going  the  same  round  daily  from  tree  to  tree,  and  can 
find  no  relief — I must  always  carry  this  wicked  heart,  and 
when  I die  be  miserable  forever.’ — The  pious  Indian  wo- 
man who  had  charge  of  the  sugar  camp,  used  to  talk 
some  with  her;  and  after  seasons  of  prayer,  would  perhaps 
ask  her  if  she  did  not  feel  the  importance  of  joining  in  heart 
with  her.  She  said  she  did.  And  though  there  was  to 
her  mind  no  prospect  of  ever  being  better,  yet  she 
would,  as  she  says,  forget  herself,  and  feel  strong  desires 
for  mercy.  After  her  return,  she  thought,  as  she  says, 
that  every  one  must  look  upon  her  condition  as  a hopeless 
one;  and,  as  before,  she  often  staid  away  from  meetings, 
because  she  thought  it  unfit  to  be  there.  Most  of  the  fol- 
lowing summer  she  spent  at  the  farm,  where  at  times  she 
seemed  to  awake  to  an  affecting  view  of  her  dreadful 
state,  and  with  such  feelings  that  she  would  go  off  from 
the  house  and  pray  and  weep  much  alone:  but  for  the 
most  part  she  indulged  in  despair  without  relief. 

The  next  fall  we  had  unusual  sickness  in  the  family,  and 
Eliza  and  her  son  were  left  at  the  farm  alone  for  two  or 
three  weeks.  They  also  were  both  taken  sick;  and  prob- 
ably suffered  somewhat  for  the  want  of  nursing,  before  we 
were  aware  of  it  and  could  bring  them  home.  In  refer- 
ence to  this  time  she  says,  that  after  she  was  taken  sick, 
she  thought  with  herself,  that  she  had  found  no  relief  to  her 
mind  in  our  way , meaning  that  of  Christians,  and  that  she 
would  again  try  her  old  way  of  medicine  songs;  and  that 
she  spent  the  greater  part  of  several  nights  in  songs  and 
her  former  Indian  mummery.  After  she  was  brought  home 
she  discontinued  this;  but  she  thinks  she  lost  nearly  all 
anxiety  about  her  soul,  and  seemed  to  have  no  feeling  fur~ 


6 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman. 


ther  than  to  take  care  of  Joseph,  her  son,  as  he  failed.  He 
talked  with  her  considerable,  but  she  said  she  did  not  feel 
it  much;  that  she  was  like  one  who  had  lost  her  senses, 
and  nothing  seemed  to  move  her  feelings.  A few  days 
before  Joseph’s  death,  he  had  a long  conversation  with  her; 
told  her  that  he  should  die  soon,  and  that  he  wanted  her 
to  promise  him  never  to  drink  any  more  whiskey;  to  remain 
with  the  mission  family;  listen  to  their  instructions;  and 
pray  every  day  to  God:  then,  when  she  died,  she  would  go 
to  God  with  him.  At  first  she  told  him  that  if  he  died  she 
would  die  too.  But  Joseph  said  that  was  wrong;  that  it 
would  not  be  as  she  said  when  to  die;  but  that  God  only 
had  a right  to  have  her  die  when  he  wished.  At  length 
she  promised  him  that  she  would  remember  and  do  as  he 
had  requested. 

During  the  whole  scene  attending  Joseph’s  death  and 
funeral,  her  behavior  was  singularly  calm  and  solemn:  so 
much  so,  that  it  was  noticed  by  all:  many  a professing 
Christian  mother  might  have  received  from  her  in  that  af- 
flictive scene,  a silent,  though  awful  reproof,  for  immoderate 
grief.  When  she  perceived  that  his  spirit  was  really  gone, 
the  tears  rolled  and  she  exclaimed,  “My  son!  my  son!”  in 
Indian:  but  farther  than  this,  not  a complaint  nor  groan 
was  heard  to  escape  her  lips. 

After  the  funeral  I sat  down  with  her  and  had  a long 
conversation.  Among  other  things  I asked  her  why  it  was 
that  she  appeared  as  she  had  done:  whether  it  had  been 
so  at  the  death  of  her  other  children?  To  this  last  she 
said  no:  and  gave  some  account  of  her  feelings  and  con- 
duct— how  she  had,  as  is  common  among  the  Indians,  wail- 
ed and  mangled  her  own  body  in  self-affliction.  In 
answer  to  the  former  part,  she  said,  “I  have  no  such  feel- 
ings now — God  is  good,  and  I feel  that  what  he  has  done 
must  be  right.”  Although  she  expressed  no  consciousness 
of  the  love  of  God  in  her  soul;  yet  she  furnished  comforta- 
ble evidence  to  my  mind,  that  her  feelings  were  under  the 
sanctifying  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  On  the  following 
night,  as  she  now  relates,  while  fixing  her  bed,  all  which 
had  passed  between  her  and  Joseph,  a few  days  before  his 
death,  rushed  upon  her  mind  like  a torrent,  awakening  at 
the  same  time  an  impression  that  there  was  no  hope  for 
her  soul:  but  in  a moment  she  involuntarily  resolved  to 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman.  7 

pray  once  more  that  God  would  have  mercy.  For  the 
purpose  of  greater  retirement  she  started  to  go  to  the  cel- 
lar; and  while  descending  the  stairs,  as  if  she  could  go  no 
further,  she  settled  down  and  began  to  pour  out  her  desires. 
This  is  the  last  distinct  recollection  she  has  of  any  thing 
that  took  place  then.  How  or  when  she  got  back  she  has 
no  knowledge.  Between  11  and  12  o’clock,  I heard  a dis- 
tressed noise,  and  lighting  a candle  immediately,  I went 
to  her  and  found  her  apparently  asleep;  and  upon  awaking 
her,  I asked  if  she  was  sick?  she  said,  No;  and  I went 
back.  The  first  that  she  remembered  was  seeing  me  with 
a candle  in  my  hand.  She  afterwards,  as  she  says,  engaged 
in  prayer  again,  and  was  then,  for  the  first  time,  conscious 
of  enjoyment  in  the  love  of  Christ.  The  next  morning, 
her  soul  was  so  filled  with  love  for  all  the  members  of  the 
family,  that,  as  she  saw  one  and  another,  she  says,  she 
felt  that  her  own  children  had  never  been  so  near  her 
heart  as  they.  Now  she  felt  so  entirely  reconciled  to  the 
death  of  Joseph,  that  she  had  no  inclination  to  grieve.  At 
times,  she  says,  her  mind  would  recur  to  the  scene  of  his 
death;  but  to  use  her  own  expressions  literally  interpreted, 
“I  felt  as  if  I was  in  a narrow  happy  way,  and  if  a 
thought  came  to  me  about  Joseph,  it  seemed  like  being 
drawn  out  of  this  way,  and  I longed  to  get  back  again  im- 
mediately.” With  these  happy  feelings  toward  God  and 
Christians,  she  now  for  the  first  time  thought  a great  deal  of 
her  own  people.  “Oh  if  they  could  only  see  as  I do,  how 
happy  would  they  be.” 

Advancement  in  Piety. 

When  asked  about  the  state  of  her  mind  afterward,  she 
said,  “I  have  always  been  happy  in  God  since  then.  The 
more  I have  had  a view  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ, 
and  the  longer  I have  lived,  the  more  I have  desired  to 
love  him,  and  to  love  him  more  and  more,  and  to  be  more 
and  more  like  him  in  my  soul.  I do  not  know  that  I have 
since  had  any  sorrow  of  soul  so  great  as  I have  had  for 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  God.  Much  sorrow  I have  often 
had  for  them.  Sometimes  when  going  into  church,  or  while 
there,  it  has  made  me  weep  to  think  of  those  who  do  not 


8 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman. 


love  God.  There  has  never  been  one  day  since  I found 
peace  to  my  soul,  when  I did  not  feel  that  God  was  with 
me.”  The  reason  which  she  assigns  for  this  mercy  is, 
that  God  will  soon  take  her  out  of  the  world,  and  that  he 
is  pleased  to  be  thus  preparing  her  for  his  presence.  “Ev- 
ery Sabbath,”  she  says,  “I  have  felt  that  this  leaves  me 
one  Sabbath  less  to  be  in  this  world,  and  brings  me  one 
Sabbath  nearer  the  time  when  I shall  be  with  Christ.” 

“Here,  on  being  particularly  questioned,  she  related 
three  instances  when  for  a time  her  mind  was  troubled.  A 
year  ago  she  was  reduced  quite  low,  and  one  evening,  word 
was  brought  us  that  she  was  dying.  On  going  to  her  room 
she  was  found  to  be  very  languid,  but  after  some  time  revived, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  converse.  She  was  questioned  relative 
to  her  views  and  feelings,  to  which  she  gave  answers  ex- 
pressive of  joy  in  the  prospect  of  being  soon  with  God.  She 
answered  one  of  the  sisters  to  this  effect,  “I  long  to  be 
gone,  I want  to  have  the  time  come.”  Afterwards  she 
felt  that  she  had  expressed  impatience,  and  it  grieved 
her  exceedingly;  so  that  she  had  several  seasons  of  weep- 
ing between  that  and  the  following  Sabbath  morning. 

Another  time  to  which  she  referred,  she  had  gone  to  bed 
and,  as  she  supposes,  had  not  slept  long,  when  she  awoke 
and  felt  a desire  to  pray.  She  arose  and  knelt  down,  but 
had  been  engaged  but  a few  moments  before  she  drowsed. 
This  occurred  again;  but  awaking  the  second  time,  she 
was  alarmed  at  herself,  and  feared  that  her  love  to  God 
was  all  dying;  and  so  great  was  her  distress  that  it  ban- 
ished every  sleepy  feeling.  With  fears  and  a burdened 
heart  she  set  about  prayer  in  earnest;  nor  did  she  leave 
until  her  tears  of  sorrow  were  turned  into  tears  of  joy. 
Then  her  soul  was  so  full  that  she  could  not  sleep,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  night  was  spent  in  prayer  and  joy 
that  God  was  with  her. 

The  other  instance  was  on  an  occasion  when  the  girls  had 
made  some  remarks  to  her,  from  which  she  thought,  that,  as 
she  was  always  sick,  they  and  the  rest  of  the  family  con- 
sidered her  as  burdensome,  and  wished  her  away.  This 
made  her  feel  unhappy  for  a few  hours,  but  before  night 
she  obtained  that  relief  in  prayer,  which  restored  peace  to 
her  soul. 


9 


Eliza , an  Indian  Woman. 

I afterwards  put  several  questions  to  her  which  follow, 
together  with  her  answers. 

You  have  said  that  before  you  found  peace  in  Christ,  you 
did  for  a long  time — for  many  months- — feel  yourself  miser- 
ably wretched,  and  that  you  often  prayed;  was  it  for  the 
sake  of  these  prayers  that  God  gave  you  peace?  or  was 
there  any  good  in  them?  “No:  it  was  because  of  Christ’s 
pity  to  my  soul;  because  he  died  for  poor  sinners;  and  it 
was  of  God’s  mercy  that  missionaries  were  sent  to  teach 
me.” — Do  you  mean  to  have  me  understand  from  all  you 
have  said,  that  you  never  had  any  fears  that  you  were  de- 
ceived; no  time  in  which  you  have  doubted  whether  you  had 
a part  in  the  Saviour  or  not?  “I  have  always  felt  sure 
that  God  has  had  mercy  on  my  soul;  and  the  more  I havt 
thought  of  my  old  wicked  life,  it  has  been  like  one  pushing 
me  nearer  to  God:  it  has  made  me  feel  more  humble  in  my- 
self: and  a strong  desire  to  live  only  for  him.” — But  should 
God  take  away  his  Spirit  from  your  heart  and  leave  you  to 
yourself,  what  do  you  think  would  become  of  you?  “I  should 
be  good  for  nothing.” — Have  you  any  fears  that  God  will 
ever  take  away  his  Spirit  from  your  soul?  “No.” — Why? 
“From  what  I have  heard  of  his  word,  he  has  promised  to 
keep  those  that  trust  in  him;  and  I believe  he  is  faithful  to 
his  word.” 

There  have  been  several  times  when  in  your  sickness 
you  have  been  very  low,  and  have  had  reason  to  think  you 
would  live  but  a few  hours  or  days;  have  you  at  none  of 
these  times  been  unwilling  or  afraid  to  die?  “No.” — Have 
you  always  felt,  that  if  it  were  God’s  will,  it  would  be  a 
privilege  to  die,  and  you  would  be  glad  to  have  the  time 
come?  “Yes;  I have.  This  fall,  when  I was  very  sick 
for  two  days  and  nights,  and  felt  that  God  only  could  make 
me  better  or  take  me  away,  I thought,  if  it  were  his  will, 
how  glad  I should  be  to  know  that  I was  dying,  that  I 
might  be  with  God.” — A year  ago  last  spring,  [1828] 
you  was  baptized  and  received  into  the  church;  can  you 
tell  me  any  thing  of  your  feelings  at  that  time  about  the 
ordinances?  “After  I understood  their  design,  that  Christ 
had  commanded  them,  and  why  he  had  done  it,  I had  a 
very  strong  desire  to  be  baptised  and  to  receive  the  sa- 
crament; nor  is  there  any  thing  in  this  world  that  I have 


10  Eliza , an  Indian  Woman. 

felt  to  be  so  great  a privilege.  When  at  the  table  I was 
baptized  and  promised  solemnly  to  be  for  God,  I really 
felt  in  my  heart  every  word,  and  that  I was  now  all  the 
Lord’s,  and  no  more  for  myself  or  for  any  other.  I was 
happier  than  I can  express,  in  the  privilege  of  being  there 
with  the  love  of  God  in  my  heart;  and  when  receiving  the 
bread  and  wine,  I felt  that  I could  not  be  thankful  enough 
to  God  for  bringing  me  to  the  table  once.  I thought  I 
should  come  there  no  more;  but  that  the  next  time,  I should 
be  at  God’s  table  in  heaven.” — You  see  that  it  has  not 
been  as  you  thought.  You  have  communed  several  times: 
have  those  always  been  precious  seasons  to  your  soul? 
“Yes,  every  one  of  them.” — Have  they  been  as  precious 
as  the  first  one?  “Yes:  as  I have  heard  more  of  the  Sa- 
viour, and  have  learnt  more  of  his  love  from  the  Bible,  I 
have  felt  each  time,  if  possible,  more  and  more  near,  and 
happy  in  him.” — -What  good  do  you  think  that  baptism  or 
the  sacrament  could  do  you,  without  a heart  to  love  the 
Saviour?  “None.  There  would  be  no  joy  to  my  soul  in 
them.” — Could  you  have  this  joy  and  peace  of  which  you 
have  told  me,  if  you  did  not,  as  far  as  you  know,  strive  to 
obey  God  in  all  things?  “No;  I could  not.  Though  un- 
able to  do  any  thing  with  my  hands  to  help  the  family  and 
to  labor  for  God,  it  is  my  sincere  desire  daily  to  have  my 
heart  much  in  prayer  for  them  and  for  the  salvation  of  their 
souls;  and  because  God  lets  me  live,  I believe  he  wishes 
me  to  be  devoted  in  spirit  to  this.” — Do  you  think  you  love 
God  and  souls  as  much  as  you  ought?  “No:  I try  to  love, 
but  do  not  feel  so  much  as  I ought.” — When  do  you  ex- 
pect to  have  perfect  love  to  God  and  souls?  At  first  she 
answered,  “Never;”  thinking  I meant  while  in  the  body. 
Afterwards  she  said,  “When  I get  to  heaven.” 

Respecting  the  foregoing  narrative,  Mr.  Ferry  remarks — 

I have  written  it  as  taken  from  the  woman  through  an 
interpreter,  and  as  having  in  part  fallen  under  my  own  ob- 
servation. I have  scrupulously  avoided  any  thing  like  a 
more  favorable  coloring  than  facts  would  justify.  The 
statements  have  been  read  by  those  who  have  had  most 
knowledge  of  the  subject  of  them,  and  of  her  exercises,  and 


11 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  W.  R. 

they  believe  that  the  impression  which  will  naturally  be  left 
on  the  mind  of  the  reader  will  be  less  striking  than  the 
reality.  In  respect  to  uninterrupted  peace  and  spirituality 
of  mind,  the  case  of  this  woman  is  unlike  any  other  which 
I ever  knew.  Aware  that  some  will  at  once  set  it  down 
as  untrue,  or  a delusion,  I have  faithfully  tried,  but  in  vain, 
to  draw  from  her  something  which  would  warrant  me  in 
truth  to  cloud  some  part  of  her  Christian  life  with  doubt; 
but  you  might  as  well  attempt  to  make  her  disbelieve  her 
existence,  as  to  convince  her  that  she  has  been  left  to  go 
mourning  the  hiding  of  God’s  countenance  from  her  soul. 
She  is  indeed  a favored  child,  ripening  fast  for  glory:  sick 
or  well,  in  pain  or  at  ease,  she  always  meets  us  with  a 
placid,  and  most  commonly  with  a smiling  countenance. 
She  is  afflicted  with  consumptive  complaints,  and  for  many 
months  has  raised  blood  freely:  we  expected  that  before 
this  she  would  have  been  at  rest. 


EARLY  LIFE  AND  CONVERSION  OF  C.  W.  R.,  A MEMBER 
OF  THE  MISSION  SCHOOL  AT  MACKINAW. 

The  Indian  name  of  C.  W.  R.  was  Me-sai-ain-se. 
She  is  half  Indian,  though  by  habit  of  life,  and  by  lan- 
guage, she  was  a full  native  of  the  wilderness,  having  lived 
far  in  the  interior,  south  or  southwest  of  Magdalen  Island, 
or  Saint  Michael’s  Point,  upon  lake  Superior  Her  home, 
previous  to  entering  the  mission  family,  was  about  two  days 
march  distant  from  what  is  called  Lac  Coutree.  She  lived 
with  an  aunt,  and  belonged  to  a class,  by  distinction  or 
ceremonies,  known  as  the  Me-ta-wee.  The  summer  that  she 
left  her  home,  she  wTas  to  have  been  received  as  a full 
priestess  or  conjuress.  She  had  gone  through  all  the  pre- 
vious mummery,  and  was  then  on  the  ten  days  singing,  or 
finishing  scene;  when  an  uncle,  who  had  given  her  her 
name,  and  hence  had  a right  to  control  her,  arrived,  and  said 
he  had  been  told  in  a dream  that  she  must  not  become  one 
of  the  Me-ta-wee.  This  was  enough.  All  her  former 
plan  of  life  was  in  consequence  abandoned,  and  he  took  her 
away.  She  was  also,  that  summer,  while  with  her  uncle, 
one  of  the  party  in  the  Indian  dance  around  the  scalps  of 
some  whites,  murdered  by  those  Indians  who  were  after- 


12 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  W.  R. 

wards  imprisoned  at  Mackinaw.  Another  singular  circum- 
stance in  her  early  history  was,  that,  while  living  with  her 
aunt,  during*  the  hunting  season,  she  used  to  be  left  alone 
with  her,  and  sometimes  with  no  food  but  what  they  could 
obtain  themselves,  by  hunting  or  otherwise.  Hence  they  suf- 
fered much.  And  when  crying  with  hunger,  her  aunt  fre- 
quently said  to  her,  “Don’t  cry, — perhaps  by  and  by  you 
may  go  with  the  white  people,  where  you  will  have  plenty, 
and  be  like  them.” 

TV  hen  she  came  to  the  Warren  Station,  at  Magdalen 
Island,  she  heard  of  this  mission,  and  determined,  though 
against  the  will  of  a brother,  that  she  would  come  here; 
and  accordingly  came  down  with  the  traders,  and  was  re- 
ceived into  the  family  in  July,  1825.  She  understood  only 
the  O-jib-e-way  language,  and  was  probably  between  four- 
teen and  fifteen  years  old. 

The  following  is  a faithful  statement  of  C.’s  exercises, 
as  taken  from  her  own  lips,  in  her  native  tongue,  and  given 
to  me  sentence  by  sentence,  in  English.  At  my  request 
she  gave  the  account,  (which  in  substance  had  been  given 
to  us  all  before,)  with  this  solemn  injunction,  that  she  would 
give  what  she  knew  to  be  truth,  and  no  more  nor  less. — It 
will  be  seen  that  there  is  something  of  sameness  in  the  nar- 
rative, because  I have  only  felt  at  liberty,  while  following 
her  track,  to  shape  her  own  ideas  into  the  most  intelligible 
English.  From  her  hopeful  conversion  to  the  present  time, 
she  has  generally  enjoyed  much  peace  of  mind.  She  says 
she  has  had  seasons,  when  conscious  of  little  spirituality, 
she  has  been  much  distressed  for  fear  she  should  be  deceiv- 
ed, because  it  was  not  with  her  as  in  days  past:  but  never, 
she  says,  has  she  been  conscious  of  such  a state  of  feeling, 
that  she  could  not  say  from  the  heart,  I am  ready  and  wil- 
ling to  live  and  die  for  Christ.  And  her  whole  deportment 
has  been  strikingly  characteristic  of  such  a state  of  mind. 
She  was  received  into  church  fellowship,  with  two  other 
girls,  at  our  communion  season  in  April,  1828:  and  I pre- 
sume I speak  but  the  feelings  of  the  family,  when  I say 
that  there  has  been  no  more  faithful  missionary  to  her 
friends  and  others,  among  us  than  she.  The  following  is 
her  account. 


13 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  TV.  R. 

“Two  years  ago  the  present  summer,  [1828]  I began  first 
to  have  serious  thoughts  about  my  soul.  When  hearing  the 
Scriptures  interpreted,  what  God  says  in  them  respecting 
the  wicked,  and  especially,  when  hearing  M.  [a  pious  girl 
of  the  family,]  praying  in  the  native  language,  for  the  sal- 
vation of  the  poor  ignorant  Indians,  I first  began  to  think, 
‘Perhaps  I am  one  of  those  ignorant  wicked  ones.’  And  I 
began  to  use  some  Catholic  prayers,  which  I had  in  part 
learnt,  thinking  these  would  do  me  good.  But  M.  told  me 
these  were  only  prayers  of  the  mouth,  and  not  right  with 
God;  that  God  knew  all  our  hearts;  and  that  we  must  pray 
from  our  hearts  as  we  felt,  if  we  hoped  to  have  God  hear 
us.  With  this  said  to  me,  which  I supposed  to  be  true, 
I used  to  try  to  pray.  Sometimes  I could  only  use  a few 
words,  and  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  with  me; 
but  often  in  meeting  and  at  other  times,  I was  distressed 
with  the  thought,  that  I might  be  sent  away  with  the  wicked. 
I can  now  see,  that  I had  then  no  sense  of  the  wicked- 
ness of  my  heart.  The  more  I heard  the  word  of  God  ex- 
plained, and  was  questioned  respecting  it,  and  informed 
that  not  only  our  actions  were  bad  in  God’s  sight,  but  our 
thoughts  and  feelings  were  displeasing  and  wicked  before  him 
the  more  was  I led  to  look  at  my  life,  and  at  particular  things 
which  I had  done;  and  from  this  review,  to  think  more  of 
my  heart,  that  there  was  something  very  bad,  and  which 
I began  to  see  was  wicked,  in  my  thoughts  and  feelings. 

“Preparatory  to  the  first  season  of  communion,  after  my 
uneasy  state  of  mind,  while  helping  to  prepare  the  table 
service,  I was  told  that  none  but  those  who  loved  God  had 
any  right  or  privilege  at  his  table.  I then  felt  as  if  I 
should  never  be  permitted  to  come  there,  as  I knew 
nothing  of  God.  All  the  night  following  I lay  awake,  dis- 
tressed at  the  situation  in  which  I began  to  see  myself;  and 
thought,  as  I had  lived  so  long  without  thinking  of  God,  or 
rather  knowing  that  there  was  such  a glorious  Being  in  the 
heavens,  that  he  would  never  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
me;  that  I was  too  bad  to  have  him  think  upon  or  help  me. 
The  next  day  Miss  O.  read,  and  had  interpreted  to  the  girls, 
that  portion  of  Scripture  where  Christ  instituted  the  sup- 
per, and  explained  to  us  the  reason  and  design  of  the  sa- 
crament. Afterwards,  when  seeing  the  church  around  the 

2 


14  Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  W.  R. 

table,  with  all  the  affecting  scene  before  my  eyes,  I had  a 
feeling  that  there  was  truth  in  these  things,  such  as  1 
had  not  had  before.  And  not  only  was  my  mind  more 
deeply  distressed  for  myself;  but  seeing  so  many  around 
me,  (compared  with  the  small  number  at  the  table,)  who  I 
supposed  must  be  in  the  same  wicked  and  dangerous  condi- 
tion with  myself,  my  feelings  of  anguish  became  indescriba- 
ble. On  leaving  church,  while  alone  in  my  room,  the 
thought  came  to  my  mind,  ‘Why  need  I be  so  distressed? 
there  are  no  others  who  appear  to  feel  as  I do:  perhaps  it 
is  because  these  things  are  new  to  me:  when  I become  more 
used  to  them,  they  will  not  affect  me  so:  and  it  may  be 
that  I too  may  come  to  love  God.’ 

“After  this,  while  any  of  the  family  were  giving  me  and 
the  other  girls  instruction,  I used  often  to  think,  ‘I  won’t 
let  these  things  trouble  me  much.’  And  if  at  any  time  I 
found  my  mind  considerably  excited,  I would  immediately 
try  to  check  and  do  away  my  feelings;  as  it  were  saying 
to  myself,  ‘It  is  enough  for  me  to  learn  little  by  little:  I 
won’t  be  such  a fool:  by  and  by  I shall  do  well  enough, 
when  I come  to  know  more.’  With  this  impression  I al- 
most neglected  prayer.  To  such  a degree  did  I give  my- 
self up  to  this  feeling,  that  for  a long  time  it  was  but  sel- 
dom that  I would  attempt  to  pray,  lest  my  mind  should  be 
too  much  frightened  or  distressed. 

“The  next  thing  that  troubled  me  was  the  parable  of  the 
sower,  which  I heard  read  to  me,  and  upon  which  I was 
requested  to  meditate,  and  give  my  opinion,  when  I sup- 
posed I understood  the  meaning.  This  troubled  me  much; 
because,  after  fixing  on  what  I supposed  the  way-side  and 
the  stony  ground  meant,  I thought  they  both  represented 
much  of  my  heart:  nor  could  I resist  the  anxiefy  which  the 
thought  produced.  This  state  of  mind  remained  and  grew 
worse  for  some  time,  until  I was  arrested  with  this  thought, 
that  it  might  bring  me  to  sickness,  or  derangement,  or  a 
worse  evil:  and  I determined  that  I would  try  and  do  as 
far  as  possible  what  was  right  for  God,  and  in  the  mean 
time  would  avoid  indulging  in  anxiety.” 

Here  she  related  a train  of  feelings,  for  several  months, 
amounting  to  nothing  essentially  more  favorable.  The  nar- 
ration exhibited  a fluctuating,  unhappy  state;  sometimes 


15 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  TV.  R. 

awaked  to  anxious  distress  under  instruction,  and  again  en- 
deavoring to  settle  into  indifference  or  ease  of  mind.  At 
one  time  this  struggle  was  severe,  occasioned  by  the  death 
of  a little  boy  in  the  family.  At  another,  on  the  arrival  of 
her  relatives  last  summer,  Miss  O.  asked  her  why  she  did 
not  talk  with  and  instruct  them?  Here  her  mind  was  again 
aroused.  She  says  she  felt  in  keen  distress  for  a time, 
shuddering  at  the  thought  of  showing  others  what  to  do, 
when  this  condemned  herself.  This  she  thought  would  be 
to  look  after  a mote  in  their  eye,  with  a beam,  in  her  own. 
At  length,  when  Miss  M’F.  was  lying  very  sick,  and  her 
death  daily  expected,  she  came  into  the  room,  and  among 
other  things  Miss  M’F.  said  to  her,  ‘I  suppose  you  are 
not  willing  to  have  me  die;  but  if  you  only  had  a good  hope 
in  the  Saviour,  it  would  not  be  long  before  we  should  meet 
again  in  heaven,  and  be  forever  happy  together.’ 

“This,”  said  she,  “came  home  to  my  heart.  It  was 
more  than  I could  well  endure;  and  I resolved  that  I would 
pray  for  mercy  as  long  as  I had  life.  From  that  time  I 
was  much  in  prayer;  and  often  able  to  get  little  or  no  rest 
through  the  night.  When  Miss  M’F.  and  Mr.  F.  were 
about  leaving  home  for  their  journey  last  fall,  my  mind  was 
deeply  affected  and  distressed.  I thought  it  would  be  right 
in  God,  who  had  been  so  merciful  as  to  send  him  here  to 
instruct  us  and  be  as  a father  to  us,  to  take  away  his  life; 
and  that  I,  with  the  other  children  who  had  not  believed  in 
Christ,  might  never  see  him  again.  How  can  I endure 
the  thought!  I will  try,  I will  pray,  and  perhaps,  though  I 
don’t  deserve  it,  God  will  send  him  back  and  give  mercy 
to  my  soul,  that  I may  love  the.  Saviour.  When  I saw 
the  vessel  under  sail,  I went  alone  and  prayed  earnestly 
that  God  would  preserve  them;  and  that  I might,  if  he 
could  be  so  merciful,  have  a heart  given  me  to  improve  the 
providence  of  taking  them  away. 

“This  anxiety  continued.  I felt  after  this,  no  inclination 
to  give  up  prayer.  I often  thought  how  I had  promised  to 
God,  and  were  I not  to  do  as  I had  promised,  I should  lie 
to  him;  and  then  he  would  have  no  more  mercy  on  me.  I 
felt  this  to  be  my  last  time,  my  only  hope.  My  mind  was 
so  pressed,  that  many  times  I could  not  sleep,  and  was 


16  Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  W.  R. 

often  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  get  up  and  seek  relief  in 
prayer. 

“One  Wednesday  evening,  after  meeting,  Mrs.  C.  fell 
in  with  me,  having  walked  out,  as  I also  had  done,  and  had 
a long  talk  with  me:  and  though  I did  not  express  to  her 
any  other  than  anxiety  of  mind  for  salvation,  yet  I was 
angry.  In  my  agony  of  distress  and  anger  I had  such 
thoughts  as  these,  ‘What  business  have  you  to  talk  so  to 
me?  it  don’t  concern  you  what  becomes  of  my  soul:  you  have 
not  to  suffer  for  my  sins:  why  not,  then,  let  me  alone,  and 
not  torment  me.’  After  Mrs.  C.  left  me,  reflecting  on 
the  feelings  I had  indulged,  I felt,  if  possible,  worse  than 
ever.  Although  I was  aware  that  Mrs.  C.  knew  nothing 
of  my  feelings,  yet  1 knew  they  were  not  hid  from  God, 
and  must  be  very  displeasing:  surely,  thought  I,  I am 
lost. 

“The  following  Saturday  evening  there  was  a prayer 
meeting  in  the  girls’  room;  after  which  Miss  C.  made  re- 
marks to  this  amount,  ‘That  she  was  afraid  some  of  those 
professing  so  much  anxiety,  were  deceived,  judging  from 
their  conduct;  for  surely,  if  they  were  so  anxious,  they 
would  have  given  themselves  to  the  Saviour  before  now.’ 
This  was  like  a knife  to  my  heart.  What  can  I do?  At 
first,  after  going  to  the  bed-room  with  M.  and  C.,  who  were 
also  distressed,  we  tried  to  pray  together.  But  I found 
this  was  no  place  for  me;  and  the  whole  night  I spent 
alone;  now  and  then  only  awakened  to  keener  agony  from 
hearing  the  sobs  of  M.  in  the  opposite  room.  Sabbath 
morning,  leaving  my  room  a little  after  day-light,  I saw 
M.  standing  by  her  bed,  and  with  a smile  on  her  counte- 
nance, look  at  her  little  girl.  The  thought  rushed  upon 
me,  that  she  must  have  found  the  Saviour;  for  I had  never 
seen  a smile  on  her  countenance  before.  [Meaning,  since 
her  anxiety.]  Now  she  is  going  to  begin  a new,  a happy 
Sabbath,  and  I am  left  with  this  wicked  heart  to  profane 
the  day!  For  a moment,  as  I heard  one  of  the  girls  ex- 
claim, ‘M.  has  found  the  Saviour,’  I felt  disposed  to  envy 
her.  But  no — I thought — this  is  making  me  more  wicked;  I 
will  try  to  follow  her:  and  I left  the  house  for  the  cedars,  de- 
signing, at  the  time,  to  spend  the  day  there,  though  I did  not. 
I can  give  no  just  account  of  my  mind  through  the  Sabbath 


17 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  W.  R. 

and  Monday:  I can  only  say,  I had,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
every  wicked  feeling;:  my  heart  was  so  hard  I could  not 
weep;  I could  not  shed  a tear:  it  seemed  a perfect  combat. 

“Tuesday  morning*  after  breakfast,  Mr.  H.  came  to  my 
room  and  talked  with  me  a good  deal:  he  told  me  this 
might  perhaps  be  the  last  day  the  Lord  would  give  me; 
and  why  will  you  not  submit?  He  explained  to  me  many 
verses  of  the  Bible;  and  during  this  time  my  heart  got 
some  feeling:  it  seemed  to  melt;  and  I could  weep.  The 
whole  of  this  day  I hardly  knew  where  or  Avhat  I was. 
Sometimes  I apprehended  that  I must  lose  my  senses;  and 
seeing  the  other  girls  so  different  from  myself,  for  a moment 
I would  half  resolve  to  endeavor  to  be  like  them;  supposing 
that  otherwise  I must  soon  be  crazy.  But  a reacting  thought 
and  feeling  would  bring  me  back  to  all  the  keenness  of  my 
agony.  Before  supper  I was  in  the  girls’  sewing  room,  where 
Miss  O.  read  from  the  Bible  and  talked  with  the  girls. 
I staid  till  I dare  stay  no  longer,  lest  I should  break  out 
in  something  dreadful  before  them,  through  derangement. 
I got  to  my  bed-room ; and  throwing  myself  on  the  bed,  I 
lay  for  some  time  unconscious  of  any  thing  but  the  fire  with- 
in: nor  durst  I even  shut  my  eyes  for  fear  I should  find 
myself  in  death,  actually  sinking  into  the  flames  of  hell. 

“After  a time,  how  long  I don’t  know,  becoming  more 
conscious  of  my  state,  and  collected  in  mind,  these  were 
my  feelings:  ‘I  have  tried  every  way,  and  all  in  vain:  I 
cannot  help  myself:  neither  prayers  nor  anxiety  do  any 
good:  they  lead  to  no  relief.  It  is  right,  it  is  just  in  God 
to  destroy  me:  I ought  to  perish.  He  may  do  what  he 
pleases:  if  he  sends  me  to  hell,  let  him  do  it:  and  if  he 
show  mercy,  well:  let  him  do  just  as  he  wishes  with  me.’ 
Here,  as  in  a moment,  I had  such  a kind  of  one , or  whole 
view  of  myself,  and  a willingness  to  be  in  God’s  hands, 
that  I could  lie  no  longer,  and  resolved  to  go  in  prayer, 
and  throw  myself  for  the  last  time  at  the  feet  of  the  Sav- 
iour, and  solemnly  beg  of  him  to  do  what  he  would  with  me. 
Just  at  this  time  Eliza  [an  Indian  pious  woman  in  the 
family,  who  is  the  subject  of  the  preceding  narrative,]  came 
and  talked  a good  deal  to  ine.  She  told  me  how  easy  it 
was  to  believe  in  the  Saviour  if  I would;  and  after  talking 
some  time  said,  We  will  pray  together.’  Here  I lost  all 


18  Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  C.  W.  R . 

my  burden:  I felt  light:  a strange  feeling  that  I cannot 
describe. — I had  no  thought  that  I loved  Christ,  but  I was 
happy;  and  yet  afraid  to  be  happy;  was  afraid  to  give  in- 
dulgence to  these  feelings:  for  it  would  be  dreadful,  after 
all,  it  appeared  to  me,  to  go  to  hell  with  no  feeling  of  dis- 
tress about  it!  Rising  from  our  knees,  I was  conscious  of 
a smile  on  my  countenance,  which  I designedly  concealed 
with  my  handkerchief,  lest  Eliza  should  observe  it.  Leav- 
ing the  room,  Miss  O.  called  me  to  her  bedroom  to  eat 
some  supper  prepared  for  me.  I went,  but  could  not  eat. 
Miss  O.  and  Miss  C.  urged  me,  and  asked  why  I refused; 
to  which  I made  no  direct  answer.  When  they  saw 
that  I either  could  not  or  would  not  eat,  they  proposed 
uniting  in  prayer,  in  which  they  each  led  in  succession. 
Here  I was  filled  with  that  happiness  which  I hoped  to  en- 
joy in  heaven.  I do  not  know  but  that  my  enjoyment  was 
as  great  as  it  was  possible  for  my  soul  to  have,  arising 
from  a view  of  the  love,  the  nearness,  and  glory  of  the 
Saviour.  I seemed  to  see  it,  to  feel  it  all,  in  a fulness  of 
joy  beyond  expression.  At  the  close  of  prayer  my  mind 
run  on  this  hymn,  ‘Alas,  and  did  my  Saviour  bleed!’  and 
without  expressing  the  wish  I had  to  hear  this  hymn  sung, 
Miss  C.  in  a few  moments  commenced  sinking:  it.  The 
whole  hymn  possessed  my  soul  in  mingled  joy,  and  wonder, 
and  love.  Especially  the  last  verses,  so  that  I was  here 
as  much  lost  to  myself  in  the  bliss  of  joy,  as  I had  been 
before  in  the  anguish  of  despair.  Perhaps  my  countenance 
told  my  feelings;  and  Miss  O.  asked  me  if  I could  now 
love  that  Saviour.  I answered,  I hope  I do.  This  was 
the  first  intimation  I had  dared  to  give  of  the  peace  of  soul. 
But  my  joy  had  swallowed  up  all  fear,  and  I could  not  re- 
sist the  answer.  Now  I had  such  a love  for  all  around, 
as  well  as  for  the  Saviour,  that  I could  have  folded  them 
to  my  bosom.  For  two  days  following,  night  and  day, 
there  was  little  or  no  abatement  of  this  happiness.  I ap» 
peared  to  be  in  a new  world:  every  thing  led  me  to  God: 
not  an  object  did  I see  but  seemed  to  say,  ‘how  glorious  and 
lovely  is  the  great  God.’  ” 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  M.  A,  W. 


19 


EARLY  LIFE  AND  CONVERSION  OF  M.  A.  W. 

M.  is  a half  Indian  woman  of  the  O-jib-e-way  nation. 
She  does  not  know  her  age,  but  she  is  probably  between 
twenty-two  and  twenty-five  years.  She  was  born  at  Fort 
William,  or  what  is  called  the  Grand  Portage,  on  the 
northern  shore  of  Lake  Superior,  where  she  lived  till  about 
four  years  ago.  Her  father  was  a Frenchman,  and  clerk 
to  one  of  the  Hudson  Bay  traders.  He  left  her  mother 
when  M.  was  about  four  years  old,  and  has  never  been 
seen  by  her  since.  About  ten  years  afterwards  her  mother 
married  another  man  and  removed  with  him  towards  the 
Rocky  mountains.  M.  has  not  seen  her  since.  She,  with 
her  brother,  was  left  in  the  family  of  a trader,  where  she 
was  required  to  go  to  a priest  daily  to  learn  the  Catholic 
prayers  and  catechism,  for  the  purpose  of  preparing  to  re- 
ceive baptism.  This  course  she  continued  with  more  or 
less  regularity  for  three  years.  Not  long  after  her  bap- 
tism she  went  to  reside  in  the  family  of  another  trader; 
who,  within  about  a year,  went  away,  leaving  his  family 
behind. 

Having  passed  through  various  scenes,  and  been  mar- 
ried to  a man  who  forsook  her  two  years  afterwards,  she 
and  her  child  were  brought  into  the  family  of  capt.  A. 
about  50  miles  from  Mackinaw.  On  their  arrival,  capt. 
A.  proposed  to  obtain  a place  for  her  and  her  child  in  the 
mission  family  at  Mackinaw.  But  when  this  was  made 
known  to  her,  she  utterly  refused  to  go;  nor  could  she  be 
persuaded  by  all  they  could  urge.  When  she  heard  the 
arrangement  of  her  being  left  with  capt.  A.  and  that  he 
was  to  contrive  means  to  get  her  t.o  Mackinaw  as  soon  as 
the  next  spring,  she  felt  determined  she  never  would 
come.  In  the  mean  time  he  used  every  argument  and  per- 
suasion to  induce  her  to  come,  and  told  her  that  in  the 
mission,  where  he  had  his  own  son,  she  would  be  taught  to 
read,  to  know  the  Bible,  and  to  learn  every  good  thing. 
But  all  this  rather  strengthened  her  aversion  to  coming; 


20  Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  M.  A.  W. 

particularly  what  was  urged  in  the  shape  of  religious  priv- 
ileges. She  thought  she  was  perfectly  right,  and  as  she 
knew  her  prayers,  she  did  not  see  what  they  could  teach 
her;  and  especially  as  the  Catholic  priest  had  told  her 
never  to  give  up  her  prayers;  if  she  did  she  would  be  lost 
forever.  When  nothing  else  could  avail,  capt.  A.  told  her 
that  if  she  insisted  on  going  back,  he  would  retain  her  child, 
as  he  could  not  suffer  her  to  be  taken  back.  When  she  found 
she  must  go,  if  at  all,  without  her  child,  she  then  consent- 
ed to  come  to  Mackinaw;  but  says,  that  in  her  heart  she 
was  determined  by  discontent  and  complaints  to  get  away. 

Two  years  ago  last  August  Mrs.  A.  brought  her  over 
and  she  was  placed  in  the  family.  But  although  she  nat- 
urally possesses  an  amiable,  pleasant  temper,  yet  as  might 
have  been  expected,  she  was  far  from  being  contented. 
She  looked  upon  all  our  religious  instructions  and  move- 
ments as  wrong;  would  be  displeased  at  any  thing  said  to 
her  on  the  subject;  was  very  self-righteous  in  her  own  re- 
ligion, and  would  often  kneel  among  a room  full  of  girls 
and  say  her  prayers,  and  sometimes  she  would  do  it  several 
times  a day.  If  any  thing  was  said  to  her  implying  pity 
for  her  blindness,  she  would  be  quite  indignant,  thinking, 
as  she  now  says,  that  she  was  the  only  Christian  in  the 
house. 

In  the  fall,  capt.  A.  came  to  Mackinaw;  and  although 
she  expressed  a strong  desire  to  get  away,  yet  she  acknowl- 
edged that  the  mission  family  were  kind  to  her,  that  she  had 
good  food,  and  was  well  provided  for.  To  her  feelings  of 
discontent  he  would  give  no  countenance.  This  made  her 
very  angry;  and  when  he  started  to  go  away,  she  says  she 
resolved  to  get  into  the  first  canoe  she  could  find  going  to 
the  north.  But  after  these  feelings  subsided,  she  remained 
through  the  following  winter,  in  a similar  state  of  mind  to 
what  she  had  been  in  before. 

Sometime  in  the  spring  was  the  first  of  her  being  dispos- 
ed to  listen  at  all  to  any  thing  said  to  her  on  the  subject 
of  religion.  She  had  been  often  told  that  prayers  which 
were  merely  repeated,  but  do  not  come  from  the  heart, 
were  good  for  nothing:  and  when  she  now  heard  Mrs.  L. 
and  another  Indian  woman  speaking  of  their  views  and 
feeliugs,  she  felt  that  she  had  never  had  any  sorrow  for 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  M.  A.  W.  21 

the  sinfulness  of  her  heart.  When  questioned,  she  had 
heretofore  said  that  she  never  sinned  against  God,  and  she 
thought  that  we  must  be  very  wicked  when  talking  so  much 
about  a sinful  heart.  This,  together  with  what  she 
heard  from  the  word  of  God,  made  her  doubt  if  she  might 
not  be  wrong,  and  in  this  way  she  was  led  step  by  step, 
until  she  became  convinced,  and  gave  up  her  Catholic 
prayers. 

With  the  increase  of  her  serious  feelings  her  former  un- 
easiness took  a new  shape.  She  felt  no  desire  to  get  away; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  found  her  mind  insensibly  drawn  out 
after  instruction,  and  every  other  feeling  giving  place  to  a 
concern  for  her  soul.  These  feelings  she  kept  principally 
to  herself  for  a long  time.  Sometimes  when  at  the  wash- 
house or  elsewhere,  with  one  of  the  sisters,  she  would  half 
resolve  to  open  her  feelings;  but  for  some  cause,  she  don’t 
know  why,  she  would  be  prevented  from  doing  it.  She  did 
one  day  say  to  Mrs.  H.,  when  talking  with  her,  that  she 
felt  herself  the  greatest  of  sinners,  and  bursting  into  tears 
left  the  room.  Her  mind  became  so  distressed  with  a view 
of  herself,  how  she  had  lived,  how  she  had  fought  as  it  were 
against  the  truth,  and  the  astonishing  goodness  of  God  in 
bringing  her  here  against  her  will,  that  often,  during  that 
summer,  she  felt  as  if  she  knew  not  how  to  go  about  her 
work,  or  where  she  was.  “Being  at  the  farm,  I became,” 
she  says,  “so  bad  in  my  own  view,  that  I could  not  bear 
to  sit  at  table  with  the  family;  I often  felt  myself  so  un- 
worthy that  I could  not  eat,  and  had  to  leave  the  table. 
About  this  time  Mr.  H.  said  very  little  to  me,  and  I 
thought  he  looked  upon  me  as  a lost  soul,  and  that  my 
conduct  had  been  so  wicked  in  resisting  the  light,  that 
there  was  no  hope  for  me.  This,  though  dreadful,  I felt  to 
be  just  and  true,  and  thought  I could  not  have  too  mean  a 
place,  unnoticed  by  every  body.  Soon  after,  there  were 
two  days  in  particular,  that  I was  unable  to  do  any  thing, 
I felt  so  strangely  distressed.  The  second  night  I could 
not  go  to  bed  at  all,  but  spent  the  night  in  weeping  and 
prayer.  It  appeared  to  me  that  the  Saviour  was  near,  but 
still  I could  not  go  to  him,  could  not  give  myself  to  him,  and 
find  peace.  Early  in  the  morning  my  distress  and  burden 
left  me,  but  without  any  feeling  that  I had  given  myself  to 


22  Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  M.  A.  W. 

the  Saviour,  or  the  least  idea  that  he  was  mine.  I had 
often  thought,  if  any  one  spoke  to  me  about  my  mind  I 
would  tell  all  my  feelings.  The  next  morning  Mrs.  H. 
asked  me  about  my  mind,  if  I had  not  yet  been  able  to 
give  myself  to  Christ.  I told  her,  No.  This  was  all  the 
answer  I made,  and  went  away. 

“After  this,  I lost  all  anxiety  about  my  soul;  and  when 
I prayed,  I had  no  feeling.  I continued  in  this  state  with 
no  perceptible  change,  while  I remained  at  the  farm,  and 
after  my  return,  until  one  of  the  Wednesday  night  meet- 
ings. At  the  close  of  the  usual  exercises  there  was  par- 
ticular conversation  had  with  each  of  the  girls  present. 
When  they  came  to  me,  and  I was  questioned  whether  I 
meant  to  lead  the  same  life  I had  done  or  give  up  all  for 
Christ;  then,  as  in  a moment,  it  seemed  as  if  all  those 
former  feelings  which  had  been  my  agony,  rushed  upon  my 
mind,  and  unable  to  answer  a word,  I burst  into  tears.  I 
remained  some  time  after  all  had  left  the  room,  in  great 
distress.  There  I prayed,  that  if  the  Lord  had  not  en- 
tirely given  me  up,  he  would  show  me  more  and  more  of  my 
heart,  and  give  me  no  peace  until  I should  find  it  in  the 
Saviour.  It  was  then  that  I resolved  I would  seek  until  I 
found  mercy.  The  next  day  I was  unable  to  do  any  thing, 
and  had  gone  into  a room  by  myself,  where  Miss  O.  found 
me.  She  talked  to  me,  read  from  the  Bible,  and  prayed 
with  me;  but  I was  so  affected  that  I could  not  converse.” 

Here  she  related  her  continued  exercises,  in  substance 
the  same,  till  the  meeting  on  the  following  Saturday  eve- 
ning, when  her  feelings  became  so  intense,  that  when  the 
rest  knelt  in  prayer,  she  seemed  fixed  to  her  seat  without 
command  of  her  body;  as  if,  should  she  attempt  to  kneel, 
she  would  only  fall  down.  “I  felt  willing  in  mind,”  she 
says,  “to  be  in  the  hands  of  the  Saviour;  but  had  no  peace 
nor  relief  from  my  burden.  That  night,  after  going  to  my 
room,  I lay  down,  but  could  not  remain  in  bed:  I spent  the 
time  in  prayer,  and  seemed  to  myself  like  one  on  a preci- 
pice, just  ready  to  fall,  and  sometimes  bewildered  as  if  los- 
ing my  reason.  In  the  morning  I threw  myself  on  the  bed, 
with  a willingness  to  have  God  do  with  me  what  he  would 
— to  save  or  destroy  me.  I saw  that  as  I had  resisted  so 
much,  I had  no  fault  to  find,  if  he  now  refused  to  show  mer- 


Early  Life  and  Conversion  of  M.  A.  W.  23 

cy.  But  just  as  if  some  one  had  laid  hold  of  me,  I got  up 
in  a few  moments  and  unconsciously  knelt  by  the  bed, 
where  attempting  to  pray,  I could  only  thank  God.  He 
appeared  so  good,  he  seemed  sq  near  and  so  precious, 
that  I could  not  have  words  fast  enough.  On  rising  from 
my  knees,  I thought  of  my  burden,  but  it  was  all  gone,  I 
felt  in  a new  world.  Can  this  be  that  change  of  which  they 
have  told  me?  I dared  not  think  I had  found  it;  but  I was 
happy.  I felt  that  I was  so  beyond  expression.  On  going 
to  the  window,  words  cannot  express  how  good  and  lovely 
every  thing  appeared  to  me,  as  if  full  of  God.  I then  con- 
cluded that  I would  take  a walk  for  prayer.  I came  down 
and  started;  but  often  had  to  stop  in  surprise;  admiring 
every  thing  around  me  as  if  it  were  new.  I could  hardly 
believe  I was  in  the  same  world,  and  such  a season  of  wor- 
ship was  given  me  alone,  as  I never  knew  till  then. 

“When  I came  back  I awoke  the  girl  who  slept  with 
me,  and  told  her  I hoped  I had  found  the  Saviour.  She 
got  up  and  we  united  in  prayer.  My  heart  was  full:  every 
word  came  from  my  soul.  I can  say  that  I felt  it.  We 
then  went  to  the  room  where  the  females  of  the  mission 
family  were.  Never  did  they  appear  so  to  me  before.  I 
could  not  help  loving  them,  because,  as  I thought,  they 
loved  Christ,  and  I could  not  refrain  from  embracing  them, 
and  telling  them  that  this  was  the  first  Sabbath  I had  ever 
seen.  They  sung  a hymn,  and  although  I did  not  know 
how  to  join  with  them  in  voice,  yet  I did  in  spirit.  When 
meeting  with  the  girls  of  the  school  that  morning,  I felt 
constrained  to  tell  them  I had  found  the  Saviour,  and  urge 
them  to  seek  him  also.  The  whole  of  the  Sabbath  1 en- 
joyed very  much,  my  mind  mostly  filled  with  an  inexpres- 
sible view  of  God’s  goodness;  and  being  asked  by  some  one 
if  I could  ever  sin  against  so  good  a God,  I answered,  as 
I then  felt,  that  I could  not.  But  that  answer  afterwards 
caused  me  sorrow.  I felt  that  I had  said  too  much.” 

The  amount  of  her  subsequent  exercises  shows  the  Chris- 
tian with  his  clouds  as  well  as  sunshine.  Yet,  on  the 
whole,  her  life  manifests  the  growing  Christian,  and  savors 
much  of  one  that  lives  in  the  spirit  of  prayer.  She  was 
received  into  the  church  in  the  winter  of  1828. 


24 


Letter  of  J.  B.y  an  Indian  Girl. 


LETTER  OF  J.  B. 

[The  Indian  girl,  from  whose  letter  the  following  extracts  are  taken,  is  a 
member  of  the  school  at  Mackinaw.  She  wrote  the  letter  in  English,  without 
assistance.  All  her  knowledge  has  been  acquired  in  the  mission  school. 
The  thoughts  contained  in  the  letter  and  the  mode  of  expressing  them,  show 
what  improvement  she  has  made.  The  date  is  Feb.  1830.] 

I am  happy  to  tell  you  what  the  Lord  has  done  for  my  soul. 
I can  now  say  that  it  is  good  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Christ,  and  a 
good  thing  to  be  a Christian.  On  the  2nd  day  of  February  I was 
willing  to  leave  myself  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  just  where  I 
left  my  sins,  I found  peace.  For  about  four  weeks  I was  not 
willing  to  give  up  all  for  Christ’s  sake.  I thought  I could  do 
something  for  myself,  and  did  not  believe  that  he  would  save  me. 
I was  afraid  to  trust  in  him.  Although  I was  often  told  that  he 
would  save  me,  if  I let  every  thing  go  and  believe  in  him.  But  I 
wanted  to  see  some  great  thing  before  I gave  up  all  my  sins.  And 
when  I was  brought  to  see  where  I was  and  what  I was  doing,  I 
then  thought  I would  give  up  all,  and  not  try  to  save  myself  any 
more,  as  I have  done  too  long.  I have  been  trying  three  years 
and  a half  to  save  myself,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  My  teachers 
would  often  tell  me  that  every  moment  I staid  away  from  him 
the  more  danger  I was  in.  I could  not  eat  nor  drink:  I wanted 
to  pray  all  the  time.  I was  afraid  that  this  was  the  last  call  I 
would  ever  have,  for  I had  slighted  the  kind  Saviour  too  often. 
And  now  I felt  that  I would  never  be  weary  to  serve  him  as  long 
as  I live.  Sometimes  I used  to  give  up  myself  for  lost.  I thought 
I was  too  wicked  to  be  saved.  But  now  I hope  that  God  has 
shown  me  that  the  vilest  sinners  can  be  saved,  if  they  are  willing 
to  trust  in  him.  I think  now  that  he  is  a merciful  Saviour,  and 
will  not  let  sinners  perish;  but  rather  to  come  to  him  and  live.  He 
is  just  the  very  friend  we  need,  the  friend  of  sinners.  I feel  now 
as  if  I could  go  and  compel  sinners  to  come  to  God,  that  the  house 
of  the  Lord  might  be  full.  I think  this  is  my  sincere  desire,  to  go 
back  where  I came  from  and  tell  the  poor  heathens  what  a dear 
Saviour  he  is,  and  that  God  sent  his  Son  into  this  world  to  die  on 
the  cross  for  us  poor  creatures,  that  we  through  him  might  be 
saved.  I feel  very  anxious  when  I think  of  them,  especially 
when  I think  of  my  parents.  For  my  mother  has  said  that  she 
would  rather  have  a mission  there,  than  to  have  all  the  goods  of 
this  world.  I had  nothing  then  to  tell  my  poor  mother  about 
God.  *1  did  not  know  the  preciousness  of  Jesus.  I only  used  to 
read  the  Bible  to  her,  but  never  hardly  said  any  thing  to  her  about 
her  immortal  never  dying  soul.  But  now  I think  I could  take 
her  by  her  hand  and  say  to  her,  Mother,  come  with  us,  and,  per- 
haps, by  the  help  of  God,  we  might  do  you  good.  I feel  thank- 
ful that  God  has  brought  me  to  this  family.  But  I never  could 
thank  him  enough  for  his  kind  mercies  to  me.  O what  shall  I 
render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  goodness  towards  me.  I can 
never  praise  him  enough. 


